


Delayed Satisfaction

by mortysmithh



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Biting, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Rough Sex, emotional angst, idk - Freeform, semi-angsty, sorta??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortysmithh/pseuds/mortysmithh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another request from Tumblr!! <br/>From the wonderful would-you-accompany-me-in-a-fall:</p><p>Rick is really really mean to Morty physically and with his dirty talk! It’s consensual but Morty secretly feels bad! And at the very end Rick says "I love you" to Morty while they're laying in bed after sex and Morty is so so so happy! GAHHHHH</p><p>I made this REALLY angsty without meaning to rip me so much but hERE you go!! I promise it ends happy okay <br/>My Tumblr's mortysmithh, send me sin requests/suggestions!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delayed Satisfaction

“H-Hey, Rick…?”

His voice is tentative, crackling and stuttery despite the fact that he hit puberty a good year or two ago; it seems he’s cursed with whatever’s made Rick’s voice the way it is. Stammering, despite (or maybe because of) the position they’re in; Rick’s behind him on the couch, spooning him as they watch some shitty TV show version of Two Brothers, doing that awkward half-sitting half-laying thing that they so often fall into. But his attention hasn’t been on the television for the past hour and a half; he’d made the mistake of going onto Tumblr, perfectly aware of Rick breathing down his neck, but it’s not like he follows  _ too many _ porn blogs, and he was sure that his grandfather wouldn’t mind, but one of the more...salacious blogs had posted something. He can’t recall exactly what it was, but if he had to guess, it was something along the lines of ‘choke me and call me a slut’, with a background picture of someone’s bruised throat, hickies and choke marks alike marking the otherwise pristine skin.

Of course he’d closed out the app as soon as it had come up, but he can’t help but to let his mind wander as his eyes defocus and he pretends to still be paying attention to the television; how many times has Rick choked him, called him a whore while pounding him into the mattress? How many times has he been deprived of air, how many times has he been unable to walk for days, often weeks, because his grandfather didn’t feel like taking things slow, and because he’s never been able to say no to a lusty Rick?

He’d shaken himself out of that train of thought; of course Rick never forced him into anything, they’d both agreed at the beginning of whatever fucked-up thing they have now would be purely consensual, and for the things where one or both parties would have the option of denying it ‘playfully’, they’d have a safeword.

No, he’d supposed. It was more like, he felt...bittersweet...about it all. On one hand, Rick’s sexual prowess rivals that of many beings often twenty times older than the both of them combined, and he likes to show it off, teasing Morty to the edge, then bringing him back down, only to repeat this in a maddening cycle. It makes Morty see stars every time he cums, and Rick clearly has his fun toying with such a responsive body.

But sometimes, the things Rick says really get to him. He loves it in the moment, of course, and he’s never once had to use a safeword just because of the things Rick would tell him and call him. It only ever bothers him when they’re laying next to each other, panting hard and bodies shivering slightly from the various cooling fluids on their overwarm bodies, and he has ample time to think about whether Rick really thinks him useless, whether Rick actually believes that he’s just some slut, some toy.

“Morty,  _ what? _ ” Rick’s irritated voice breaks through his thoughts, and he blinks, turning just enough that doe-brown eyes can gaze into blue eyes so crystal sharp, he’s often shocked that they could belong to such an old man. Of course, he muses to himself briefly, it’s not like Rick often acts his age, if ever.

His cheeks flush pink as he realizes Rick’s likely been trying to get his attention for the past few minutes as his mind had wandered, and he turns more, so that their noses are nearly touching and he’s able to blink slowly,  _ almost _ suggestively at the old man. “Um...I, I-I just…” Fuck. It never gets any easier to ask for this; sure, it’s easy enough to beg for a dick up his ass when his own is achingly hard and throbbing for the barest of stimulations, but now, while they’re calm and the explosions and screaming from the television are the only background noise? It’s enough to make his throat stick and he has to gulp audibly before muttering under his breath, just loud enough to be heard by the two of them, “W-Want, wanted to know i-if, if you’d like to...t-to, to f-f- fff, f-fuck?” When he looks back up, Rick has such a shit-eating grin on his face that he knows at once that Rick had seen exactly what had made Morty slam his phone down so quickly, and he fully intends to recreate that picture, even if he doesn’t actually take photos. Well, again.

“Ohhh, what w- wh-what was that, MoURGH- Mortyyyy, huh?” He leers at his steadily reddening grandson, head tilted slightly as he leans in closer so that their lips are barely touching and he can stare so intently at Morty that the kid swears he can feel his soul being scoured by that gaze. “Y-You, whaddaya wanna do? C-Couldn’t hear it, I’m, I-I’m gettin’ old, you know that, don’t you?” 

And before the now slightly-pissed off teenager can respond (he’s growing rather tired of these games...can’t Rick try being sweet for once? Like their first time?), he’s hooked one arm around the back of Morty’s neck and they’re kissing hard, fast, so deep that it’s only through several years of experience of being Rick’s bedmate that Morty can think to respond just as quickly, if not moreso.

_ ‘After all...a satisfying fuck with okay mental satisfaction is better than no fuck at all, right…?’ _

Their clothes are torn off soon enough; the only reason they dare to lounge around so affectionately in only boxers and shirts is because the rest of the family’s out doing whatever the fuck they do. Beth’s out on a trip, learning more about horse care from a highly-esteemed equine doctor/professor, Jerry’s desperately brainstorming with one of his business colleagues to come up with a good ad campaign for their apple company and likely won’t be back for at least a week, and Summer’s out with her friends to see a concert three states away. All in all, it’s a good night to actually take their time, and do things right, do things the way Morty would like to for a change.

But they both know that that’s not going to happen.

It’s with only a slightly resigned-sounding sigh that Morty kicks off his boxers, pulling his yellow t-shirt off and throwing it into some random corner of the living room; he doesn’t really take note, too preoccupied with trying to distract his thoughts from the increasingly-regular barrage of thoughts that plague him every time Rick and him get hot and heavy.

_ ‘He only fucks you because your ass is tight and you make nice noises. Isn’t that what he tells you?’  _

_ “Fuck off, he does it because he loves me too.” _

The voice he uses in his mind to argue with himself doesn’t sound very confident, though, and it’s with an impatient little whine that he rolls his hips rather skillfully up against Rick’s, drawing a surprised but amused groan out of the old man. 

“Mmnh, m-mEURGH- more eager th-than usual, huh? W-Wanna be my filthy little, l-little slut? It hasn’t been that long,” he growls out, leaning down to sink his teeth into the crook of Morty’s neck, making him flinch as pained pleasure courses through his veins. He secretly despises the fact that he’s such an obvious masochist; at least then it’d be a bit easier to complain to Rick that he’s too rough. But Rick doesn’t do gentle, says it’s not his style, and it’s plenty easy for Morty to believe; it’s easier to believe, to let himself fall for, rather than to think of other reasons Rick may refuse to be sweet or gentle with the teen.

He feels the blunt head of his grandpa’s cock pressing rather insistently up against his twitching asshole, and for a brief moment, he considers surging up, refusing to let Rick fuck him so roughly, without any preparation, but they do this often enough that any prep is just for foreplay, and even then he’s usually left limping afterwards whether or not Rick decides he wants to sink his fingers into Morty while drawing out begs that are only so enthusiastic because his body wants it and he’s unable to voice, to put into words just how badly he’d love for Rick to be fingering him because he gives two shits about Morty’s mental wellbeing while they fuck.

Rick sinks in easily, moaning in pleasure as Morty gasps and squeaks out a breathless, pained whimper of Rick’s name, squirming and looping his arms around the old man’s neck as he draws him in for a rough kiss. Rough, because he doesn’t want to make this weird, rough because it’s the way things go with the two of them, and rough because he can’t control himself and rough sex is all he’s ever come to expect from Rick.

His heart sinks in his chest as Rick returns it full-force, his lip bruised and split right down the middle as they kiss fiercely, almost angrily if not for the tiny spark of passion that keeps it from being downright hatesex. Of course he’d returned it, but there’s always a little bit of hope that Rick will slow it down, let it be nice, sweet for once. It’s always crushed, just like it has been now, but somehow, it’s worse this time around, and he doesn’t know why, but his chest feels like he’s suffocating and he rolls his hips up, much harder this time as his cock twitches and another, much needier moan leaves him, vibrating against both of their still-connected mouths.

If he can’t get Rick to fuck him like he loves him, then he’ll get the next best thing and get the living daylights fucked out of him, just like every other time they do this.

He gasps, nearly chokes on his spit as the old man speeds up his thrusts, having not noticed when he’d started moving. His prostate’s dragged over oh-so-deliciously with every stroke. In and out, in and out. A shrill gasp of Rick’s name, a twist, a cramp of some relatively unused muscle in his hips or back, making him freeze up, or perhaps it’s the cruel sharpness of his grandfather’s teeth as they sink into Morty’s tender neck, leaving marks that just about cover his neck and collarbone, a few even making it to his shoulders.

Too soon, he feels himself nearing climax; while his stamina is nothing to laugh at (all thanks to Rick and his nearly-painful methods of training his ‘toy’), Rick’s being particularly cruel today, and it only worsens the dark twisting in his heart, the clutter of thoughts in his mind forcing him to meet the other thrust for thrust, his cries getting louder from both pleasure and the desperate need to block out the now-steady and insistent stream of insults and insinuations from himself. 

He realizes too late that he’s crying, borderline sobbing as he cums, his dick spurting several streaks of white up his bare chest as Rick freezes, muscles rippling and showing just a fraction of the hidden deadliness in his deceptively-thin body as he gnaws on the side of Morty’s neck and lets himself go eight and a half inches up the kid’s ass.

Several moments later, a soft hiccup breaks the harsh panting, and Rick’s the one to flinch this time, looking up with a gruff grunt. He doesn’t make any obvious facial expressions at seeing Morty crying his heart out, only pulling out with a smooth, slow motion before getting up.

Curling up and facing into the couch, his sobs wrack his body, thin frame shuddering as he attempts to disappear completely, but Rick’s picked him up before he can even try.

He still remains silent as he carries the weakly-struggling Morty to the garage, barking aloud to the seemingly-empty room a command in a language that’s obviously alien, and a section of the floor sinks away to reveal stairs that even Morty’s never seen.

_ ‘Just more secrets, more things he refuses to let you do, to let you know,’ _ Morty’s mind chimes in, and he shakes his head, mumbling a half-assed response that neither of them can really hear.

Then he’s thrown onto a bed, and now Rick has a crease of worry folding the skin of his forehead, unibrow furrowed as he crawls onto the bed and nuzzles gently at the wounds he’d inflicted upon the sensitive crook of Morty’s neck. “...h-hey, Morty, what- y-you alright? D-Did I go too rough this time, buddy?”

Morty can’t say anything for a few moments; he’s always wanted to be held this tenderly by Rick, but not while like this, not with his cum dripping out of his poundingly sore ass, with similar sensations all over his torso from the messy hickies and bitemarks Rick’s left all over him. He manages to take a deep, shuddering breath before managing to stutter out something the old man’s never expected to hear from Morty. “D-Do you love me?”

He’d laugh, but he has the feeling it’d drive Morty away from him for the rest of forever, and so he refrains, instead frowning and hugging Morty tight and close, pulling back only to plant a sweet kiss to the teen’s lips. He’s surprised by how foreign the sensation is; surely he’s kissed Morty without the intent of hurting the kid at least a few times, right? When he wracks his mind for a memory of that happening, however, there’s an alarming lack of times he’s done just that. He decides right then to make up for that, and he offers Morty a soft, genuine smile as he kisses the kid’s tears away, because as disgustingly cliche as that is, he decides that his grandson could do with a few cliche’d, romantic movements right about now. “Yes, Morty, I, I-I love you so much. You’re, y-you make life bearable for me, y’know that? Y-You may be a little shit, but I-I…” He goes silent for a few moments, trying to decide how best to word his next few thoughts before he grins wide and says, “Y-You’re the Mortyest Morty, and I’m the Rickest Rick. Th-That means I’m not, I-I’m not allowed to not love you, and I wouldn’t love anyone else e-even if I hEURGH- had the choice, alright? A-All, all that shit I say while we’re fuckin’ around, i-it doesn’t, it doesn’t mean jack shit wh-when it’s just the two of us, being us.”

A few more tears slip down Morty’s cheeks before he laughs out a weak, tremulous sound, cheeks pink with happiness as he absolutely peppers Rick’s face in butterfly kisses. “Y-Y-You, you really mean it, Rick? Y-You, you l-love me?” When he gets an amused nod in return, he giggles again, going still just long enough to press a cavity-inducingly sweet kiss to Rick’s lips before he nuzzles Rick’s face with his own. “I...I-I, I love you too, Rick. Th-The Rickest Rick, a-and the Mortyest Morty, r-right?”

“R-REURGH- Right.”


End file.
